


the marshmallow express

by akapeterman



Series: peter and his injuries [1]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Brief Vomit Mention, Concussions, Drabble, Fluff, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Morgan Stark (mentioned) - Freeform, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Protective Tony Stark, Sick Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:28:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23679895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akapeterman/pseuds/akapeterman
Summary: “No, Jesus Christ, kid. I said don’t go to sleep. Hear that, Underoos? It’s not naptime.”“But, M'sr St'rk—'m on my own marshmallow express."aka; Parker Luck leaves a concussed Peter trying to explain his whereabouts to Tony, a Worried Dad™.:::a short drabble following one very Hurt Peter & a very concerned Tonyprompt: concussion
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: peter and his injuries [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1896133
Comments: 7
Kudos: 236





	the marshmallow express

Peter woke up at the bottom of concrete stairs with a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

The first thing he noticed was the smell of hot chocolate in the air. His stomach growled momentarily before clenching hard with nausea. No food. Got it. 

The second thing he noticed was that he was outside, alone, dressed in civvies with the sun barely breaking the horizon on this early winter morning. He vaguely remembered that it was a school day, but was too disoriented to keep on that detail. 

And the third, and arguably most pressing thing he noticed was pain, shooting right through his skull and turning his stomach. 

His senses were switching between being dialed up to 22 and back down to 3. The light of the rising sun dancing across his eyes was enough to have him pressing his face against the pavement beneath him as his head felt like it was about to explode; but as quick as it came, his body went numb and he relaxed in a blissful state of dull confusion where the birds chirping was nothing more than white noise in the distance. 

What happened? There had been ice and then—  


Ice. That was it. Distantly, his mind went to little Morgan Stark and her love for Olaf. He was made of ice, right? Or was it snow? Were they the same thing? Thinking about it too much made his killer headache worse.  


Right, he had a headache. He should call somebody.  


With fumbling hands, he removed his cracked phone from his pocket. He vaguely remembered MJ buying him a good case for his birthday, not that it did much now. He must’ve fallen hard—  


“I fell!” Peter said out loud, glad his mind could make a solid connection. Glad that was established, Peter wondered where to go from there.  


Oh, right. The call. Peter turned on his phone only to realize he couldn’t remember his password.  


Did it have something to do with Star Wars? Images of light sabers and white helmets flashed through his head.  


“Hello, Peter. Can I be of assistance?” Peter startled hard at the voice coming from his phone, his head slamming back into the ground making him groan at the new wave of blinding pain that rippled through his skull.  


“Who is it?” Peter said.  


“I am Karen, your personal AI. You seem to be injured, shall I call for help?”  


“Um...no?” Peter didn’t want to bother anyone. Wait no, that didn’t sound right. His head hurt. He needed help. “Wait, yeah. Please?”  


“Calling: Tin Can Man.”  


A dialing tone rang out three times before a click sounded.  


“Hey, kid. Shouldn’t you be on your way to your little STEM daycare right about now?” Peter recognized the voice, it made him instantly feel safer. If only he could place the name—what had his phone lady called him? Tin Guy? Or-or...iron something. It was...it was—  


“Mr Man?”  


“What?” the voice on the other line changed its tone, but Peter couldn’t get his brain to calibrate enough to figure out why. “Where are you? Are you okay?”  


Peter thought of how light his body felt right now. Like clouds. Or marshmallows. Or whipped cream. Maybe the cafe down the street would give him whipped cream.  


Oh! The cafe. That explained the chocolatey smell.  


“Pete?” He tried to remember what the question was.  


“Uh...I’m—I’m floating. And...hot chocolate?” Peter knew that was relevant somehow. God, his head hurt.  


Karen says you aren’t in the suit. What happened?”  


“Um…” Peter didn’t remember much of anything. He tried to sit up to see where he was but almost immediately a wave of nausea overtook him and he retched off to the side, vomiting up his breakfast onto the steps beside him.  


“Oh, gross. Hold on, are you drunk?”  


“Drunk?” Peter’s tongue felt heavy and dry in his mouth, like it had swollen and no longer fit. It was uncomfortable and getting increasingly harder to talk. He was cold and didn’t feel good, and he wanted to be home. He wanted the voice on the other line to give him a hug and take him home. He thought about the voice’s name before slurring out,  


“M’sr St’rk (yes, that sounded right), can you come get me?” Tony sighed.  


“FRIDAY is tracking your phone. It looks like you’re only a bit away from your school, I’ll be there in 10. Don’t go to sleep, Karen’s scan doesn’t look great. Seems like you’ve got a pretty nasty concussion that I want checked out.” Sleep. Sleep sounded good.  


“I have—I have a marshm’low bed.” Peter wasn’t sure how he knew that, but it made sense. He was fluffy. Marshmallows were fluffy. Unless you lit them on fire.  


Oh, a fire sounded nice right now. He imagined himself in a comfy marshmallow bed from Mattress Express with Mr. Stark running his fingers through his hair next to a warm fire. His head lolled tiredly and his eyes flickered shut.

“No, Jesus Christ, kid. I said don’t go to sleep. Hear that, Underoos? It’s not naptime.” Peter's eyes jerked back open.  


“But, M'sr St'rk—'m on my own marshmallow express bed." 

"Okay, kiddo. Okay. I'm almost there, just hang tight a little longer." 

"Yeah, mmk. Th'nks, M’sr St’rk. But actually, I’m jus’ g'nna—” Peter laid his head back against the ice-coated railing and closed his eyes, the sound of repulsors gradually getting louder in the distance.

**Author's Note:**

> I might make this a bit of a series: short whumpy/fluffy drabbles mostly centered around Peter & Tony's relationship ?? Idk yet, its 3am atm and I wrote this on a whim and had fun doing it soooo. Anyways! Kudos and comments are appreciated!


End file.
